


Take it or leave it

by MildredMost



Series: Is This It [4]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Dirty Talk, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Hurt/Comfort, Hypothermia, M/M, Panic Attacks, Rape/Non-con Elements
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-06
Updated: 2017-05-06
Packaged: 2018-10-28 18:38:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,267
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10837068
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MildredMost/pseuds/MildredMost
Summary: Draco and Ron are still negotiating their new feelings, when Draco's past comes back to cause problems again.“Draco, I…” Ron stopped. “That’s my jumper,” he said.Draco folded his arms protectively. “Well after you tore my shirt off me the other night I didn’t have anything to get home in,” he said, ignoring the fact he’d been wearing it ever since.“Ron I can hear this you know,” said an irritated voice in the background. Harry.





	Take it or leave it

Draco was lying on the bed in his uncomfortable room at the Leaky Cauldron wondering for the millionth time what the fuck he was going to do with his life. He was also - more enjoyably -  wondering what Ron was up to and if it would be too much if he went to his flat two nights running. His hand crept to his waistband as he remembered what Ron and he had done the night before, when Ron had...

“Draco!” Ron said suddenly and Draco jumped so violently he half slid off the bed. After flailing for a moment he located the source of Ron’s voice. The fireplace.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” he snapped. “I could have been doing...anything.”

“Sorry. This is important,” Ron said.

“I didn’t even know I was on the flue network,” Draco said, feeling slightly faint with fright.

“I added you,” said Ron abruptly. “Listen, we’ve arrested Rowle.”

Draco’s heart began to thud.

“Draco, I…” Ron stopped. “That’s my jumper,” he said.

Draco folded his arms protectively. “Well after you tore my shirt off me the other night I didn’t have anything to get home in,” he said, ignoring the fact he’d been wearing it ever since.

“Ron I can hear this you know,” said an irritated voice in the background. Harry.

“Oh, yeah. Sorry. Look I don’t have much time,” Ron said. Draco nodded, feeling panic beginning to rise, and trying to fight it.

“You’re going to be key to his trial. And there are still people we haven’t caught who...You have to get out of there, it isn’t protected. Go to the flat, you can apparate there. I’ve put up protections. Go straight there now.”

“Weasley…”

“Just..” Ron looked over his shoulder and spoke to someone there. “Coming now.” He turned back into the fire. “Draco,  _ please _ . Don’t argue. Look I have to go. Sorry, I…”

He disappeared.

Draco looked around him. Was there anything he needed to take? He half heartedly rummaged through the clothes lying heaped on a chair.

“Don’t know how you’ll find anything in that mess, dear,” said the mirror.

Draco was just about to retort when he door burst open.

Two men hooded in Death Eater robes grabbed hold of him, wrenching his wand out of his pocket and throwing it aside.

“ _ No _ ,” said Draco, struggling.

“We’re taking you home,” said one of the men. “Ain’t you happy to be going home?”

Draco opened his mouth to yell as loud as he could but one of them cast silencio and he could only scream in desperate silence. One of the men immobilised him while the other heaved him up and over his shoulder as though he weighed nothing at all.

“Come on, let’s go.”

They disapparated, the horrible squeezed feeling of side-apparition leaving Draco close to vomiting. They had arrived in the Manor drawing room; disused now, then chandelier still lying on its side on the floor, smashed to pieces.He was thrown to the floor and lay there, waiting for the spell to wear off.

It was so cold in there Draco’s could see his breath puff out in front of him. If he could only get the strength to bolt, he could probably hide somewhere or find a wand of some sort.  But he couldn’t seem to get any control of his limbs, let alone his racing thoughts. Where were his parents? He tried to think of when he’d last spoken to them. A few days ago at least. They hadn’t seemed any different, hadn’t shown any sign of being back in league with the Death Eaters.

“Why are you doing this?” he said, stalling.

“We’re just keeping you out of harm’s way till we can work out a way to spring Rowle. Don’t want you spilling any more of our secrets, do we?”

“My father…” Draco began. The men laughed. “Don’t worry about him.”

One of them pulled him upright by the scruff of his neck and began dragging him towards the secret door to the cellar.

It was even colder down here, and damp too. The Manor was clearly falling to pieces from beneath them. Draco had not been down there in years, not since Ron and Harry...he felt a rush of shame and disgust at the memory.

They shoved him into the room which had been partitioned off into cells. Draco stumbled and fell onto his knees.  _ Oh god, let someone come. Let some miracle happen. _ If they locked him in he’d panic, badly, he knew he would. He could already feel it building off the back of the rush of adrenaline from his abduction. They’d get anything they wanted out of him and he’d be seen as a traitor all over again, if he lived. Sent to Azkaban.  _ Ron would hate him. _

“Strip him.”

Draco started fighting then.  _ Fuck this, fuck them. _ He wasn’t just going to give in, just fucking cower and let them take everything away again. He lashed out with everything he had, limbs still fizzing and weak from the after-effects of being frozen.

He was no match for the hooded men. The jumper was yanked roughly up over his head first, then cold hands were at his waist, undoing his jeans, pulling them and his underwear down his legs as he kicked as hard as he could.

“Fucking...Christ!” the man said as Draco caught him between the legs. He punched Draco with all his strength in the stomach. Draco collapsed, screaming for breath. The man got Draco’s hands behind him and tied them there. Grabbing a handful of Draco’s hair, he clamped a gag into his mouth.  _ Oh no, no no... _

He stayed on his knees, concentrating on getting enough air through his nose. He had to think, there had to be a way...

“God the stories Yaxley used to tell about Draco Malfoy,” the man said, running his hand down Draco’s back. “So hungry for it, he said. He’d have three men at once if he could.”

Draco flinched away, trying to scream around the gag.

The man’s hand slipped around the front, squeezing first his right nipple, then his left, and stroking down his stomach to his crotch. He cupped Draco’s soft cock. “Oh what I wouldn’t like to do to this one,” he said. Draco felt like he would vomit from revulsion. When the Death Eaters had done stuff like this to him in the past he’d just locked himself away in a different part of his head and let them get on with it. Now he felt like he’d rather die.

The man yanked Draco up by the hair and looked him over. He groped his way down Draco’s front again, rolling his balls in his clammy hand, yanking on his cock. He moved around to the back, parting Draco’s cheeks and poking a finger at his hole.

“So fucking tight.”

Draco’s stomach heaved. He closed his eyes and tried to push everything away from him, like he used to. It wasn’t working.

“Well make your bloody mind up,” the other man said. “You going to? Not really in the mood to see your bare arse, if I’m honest.”

The man released Draco with a regretful sigh. “Nah, best not.” He kicked Draco’s legs out from under him and Draco hit the stone floor with a smack, not able to put his hands out to save himself. The other Death Eater kicked him over to the side of the cell. It was freezing on the floor, the stone sucking any warmth from his skin.

“We’ve been asked to give you a chance,” the first man said. “A chance to come back to where you belong. You been protected too well for us to get to you before, but since Yaxley, they relaxed their watch on you.”

Who had been keeping an eye on him, Draco wondered. Not Ron or Harry surely.

“It’s going to be a cold night,” the Death Eater continued. “And you’re a scrawny little shit. Doubt you’ll make it very long, to be honest. So we’re giving you an option.”

With a flick of his wand, a set of Death Eater robes appeared on the floor of the cell. Draco, who was shivering all over, wanted desperately to wrap himself in them, however repulsive that would be. Survival, he thought. He tried to sit up.

“Just one more thing though,” the Death Eater said. “They’re a Portkey.”

Draco stopped moving.

“You put them on, you’ll survive. But you’ll come to us. You don’t, then…” he shrugged. “It’s November. You ain’t got a pick of meat on you. I’d give you till midnight if that. Specially soaking wet.”

Draco’s eyes widened as a stream of freezing water hit him from the Death Eater’s wand. He tried to roll away, begging from behind the gag.

The second man edged around the robes and grabbed Draco’s wrists, cutting the bonds. Then he pulled the gag away.

“Last chance boy,” the man said. “You coming with us or what? Just put on the robes and you’re in.”

“Where are my parents?” Draco managed.

The Death Eater just laughed. “Ain’t you going to ask if they’re alive or dead?”

Draco’s terror crashed over him in full force then. He tried to get up on shaking hands and knees but there wasn’t enough room between the wall and the portkey for him to do it while he was trembling so hard.

“No answer? You’ll just have to see how much of the cold you can take then, eh?”

The men left the cell, slamming the door and apparating immediately, leaving Draco to the dark panic which roiled up through his gut. 

 

Xx

 

He had no idea how much time had passed when he heard rapid footsteps approaching.

He had managed to get to his feet, and was inching back and forth across the cell, trying to keep some warmth in his body. The portkey spread on the floor barely left him any room to move and he could only really avoid it safely by leaning back against the wall, which he knew was only leeching more heat from him.

He could see a faint light now, and Draco cowered back against the wall. Someone in Death Eater robes but not one of the men from before. This man was much taller.

The Death Eater came right up to the bars of the cell, and Draco began to breath rapidly with fear.

“Draco?” the man said. He pushed his hood back.

_ Ron _ . His messy red hair seemed to light up the cellar and Draco wanted to fling himself into his arms.

“Thank god I’ve found you,” Ron said, smiling. “I’ve been so worried.”   


Draco began to shake with relief.

“Can you get me out?” he said, close to tears.

“Course. Let me just look at how they’ve locked you in,” Ron said, raising his wand and pressing it against the lock.

“How did you know I was here?” Draco said.

“A foe detector thing. I’m not really allowed to tell you,” Ron said. “Did they say why they’d taken you?”

“Because of Rowle. You were right. I wasn’t fast enough to get away. They’re regrouping, Ron,” Draco said. “Do you know what’s happened to my parents? I don’t know if they’re…” his voice faltered, not able to ask.

“What do you even know about Rowle though? What’s so important?” Ron interrupted him.

“You said I was key to his trial,” Draco said, feeling confused.

“Well you’re the best we’ve got for now,” Ron said shortly. Draco shot a look at him and Ron smiled at him again. Draco tried to smile back.

“I don’t know much, but he used to live here. He used to brag about things he’d done. He’d tell me when he was...when he was with me. Get a reaction out of me.”

“There must be more to it than that,” Ron said, fiddling with the lock.

“I...I don’t know Ron,” Draco said, his whole body clenching with the cold. Every word, every thought was a huge effort. If he could only hold on a few more moments. “I’m freezing, I can’t _think_...I need to know if mother and father...”

“Draco, sweetheart. Calm down,” Ron said.

_ Sweetheart. _ No. That wasn’t...

Something slid behind Ron’s eyes.

“You...you’re not him,” said Draco before he could stop himself.

“What? You’re delirious,” said Ron, his smile wavering, eyes hard.

“Who are you?” Draco said, even his voice trembling now.

“I’m Ron. Your boyfriend. Who else would I be?” Ron said, opening the door at last. He reached out towards Draco and Draco let him, hoping his touch would be familiar enough to take this sickening doubt away.

"Sweetheart,” Ron said again, stroking his cheek. Draco’s stomach churned with the realisation that the way he touched Draco’s face, the way he  _ looked _ at him was all wrong.

“You’re not him,” Draco repeated, trying to shrink away from him against the wall. “He would never call me that.”

“Draco, come here,” not-Ron said, trying to tilt Draco’s face up for a kiss.

“No,” Draco whispered. He squirmed out of his grasp, revolted. “Get away from me.”

“I’m just trying to help you,” said the man, gripping Draco painfully by the wrist.

And even as he spoke, Ron’s features were blurring. He began shrinking, his body becoming thicker set. Dark hair sprang up where Ron’s red hair should be, and somehow this seemed worse than anything else.

Draco turned away and retched in shock.

The man threw the Death Eater hood back over his face just as the polyjuice wore off completely. Footsteps rang out behind him as the second man came back into the cellar.

“He tell you anything?” he said.

“He don’t know fuck all,” the first man said. “Couldn’t wait to spill all he could to his Auror boyfriend though, treacherous little shit.” He turned back to Draco, twisting his arm painfully. “You wondering how we knew? We just took a hair from that terrible jumper you were wearing. I didn’t know who I would turn into, to be honest, with a slut like you. A fucking Weasley. Unbelievable.”

“A blood-traitor and an Auror. What the fuck is wrong with you?” said the second man. He casually back-handed Draco across the face and Draco felt his lip begin to bleed. Perversely he thought how good the hot blood felt against his freezing lips.

He wiped at his face and with an effort fuelled by pure hatred, flung a wandless spell at the two of them, thrusting them out of the cell and slamming the door in their faces.

“Lock that door,” the first man said furiously. The second man did, shining the light they carried into Draco’s face.

“Your parents are with us, you know,” he said. “They’re waiting for you. If you don’t come, if you let yourself die, they’ll be dead too.  _ He _ won’t risk them being traitors too. They’ll die knowing you’d rather bend over for an Auror than save them.”

“I don’t believe you,” Draco said.

“He won’t forget this,” the first man said. “You’re as good as dead whatever happens.”

“Who’s  _ He _ ?” Draco asked. The Death Eater said nothing.

“Leave him,” the second man said. “Come on.”

They left, taking the light.

Draco sank to his knees. He had nothing left in him. He’d die here, then.Or more likely he’d give in because he was a coward, because even though he knew it was a lie he could tell himself he was doing it for his parents, and put on the robes. At least then he’d be killed cleanly, quickly, somewhere warm. Not like this, like an animal in the dark, in his own filth.

_ But not yet. _ He’d try and make it a bit longer yet. 

 

XX

 

It was hard to know how time was passing in the pitch dark. He’d tried to keep moving a little but it hadn’t seemed to keep him any warmer, and after trying to attack the Death Eaters he was exhausted anyway. He crouched in the corner for as long as he could, then knelt, then lay down.

It had started to feel like he was dreaming. He kept thinking he could hear music; he’d tried calling out, thinking he heard the sounds of Dobby moving around. He’d started to feel a little warmer; maybe it was morning, maybe he was getting some strength back. He dreamt twice that he’d walked out of the cellar and climbed into his old bed but both times he’d dizzily realised he was still lying on the floor.

He’d started to hear voices again.  _ They were coming back for him. _ Maybe this time  _ He _ would be with them. He didn’t care any more. He closed his eyes and waited to die.

A sound overhead; the door to the cellar was flung open. People were coming down there, walking quietly, not talking. He tried to open his eyes again but when he did, he could only see Ron.

“Go away,” Draco tried to say, but his voice came out as a dry rasp. He got to his hands and knees but started to shake so badly that he collapsed to the floor again.   


“Fuck,” Ron said, breaking into a run.

“Weasley,” yelled Robards, the new head of the Auror department. “Don’t touch him!”

“Ron, stop!” said Harry.

Ron ignored them both. Blasting the door to the cell, he flung it open.

“Stop,” Draco managed.

“Ron, look at the floor!” Harry yelled.

Ron stopped, casting a look back at Harry.

“Robes. Why isn’t he wearing them?” Harry said. 

“It’s a fucking. Portkey,” Draco managed, his teeth clenched against the shakes. “Couldn’t...” he tried to get up but collapsed onto his side.

“Fuck,” said Ron again.

“Weasley, get him out,” said Robards.

“Sorry,” said Ron to Draco as he cast _levicorpus_ at him. Draco felt himself levitate briefly, and the brush of freezing air against him was almost unbearable and he  cried out. Then he felt Ron’s arms around him hauling him into his lap, and it felt like Ron and smelled like him and he was so  _ there _ . Ron shrugged off his robes and wrapped them around Draco.

“God I was shitting it,” he murmured into Draco’s hair, his breath as warm as a blessing. “Thank fuck for the mirror in that awful room of yours. They overlooked it. It told us exactly where you were.”

Draco’s head lolled against Ron’s shoulder. “It’s you, isn’t it,” he managed. “It’s really you.”

“Of course it’s me.”   


“You would never call me sweetheart,” said Draco. It felt very important to make sure of this.

“Well you’re never very sweet,” said Ron looking down at him with a faint smile and holding him tighter. Draco started to sob with relief.

“Weasley,” Robards looked from Ron to Harry and back again. “What exactly is your relationship with Mr Malfoy?”

Ron looked up. “He needs hospital.”

Robards turned and sent a message by Patronus. He turned back.

“What about this Portkey. Is this a trap?”

Draco shook his head, hands covering his face to hide the humiliating tears. He didn't know any more.  


“If it isn’t a trap we can ambush them sir,” Harry said. “What if - I could use polyjuice and infiltrate…”

“You’ll forgive me if I don’t think sending Harry Potter into a den of Death Eaters and god alone knows who else, disguised as someone they’ve just tried to kill, is a particularly good plan,” said Robards dryly.

“I think he’s telling the truth,” said Ron. “Draco wouldn’t…” he faltered. “He’s been cooperating fully with the Ministry.” Draco felt Ron’s arms tighten around him.

They were interrupted by the arrival of a healer. She was brisk and firm, with hair the colour of steel wool, and she took control of the situation immediately.

“He’s suffering from exposure,” she said, crouching by Draco, looking him over. “Quite bad. I’ll need help apparating him to St Mungos. Oh hello Ronald, I know your mother.”

“Hello,” said Ron.

“I need to ask him more questions,” said Robards.

“He’s most likely hallucinating by now,” the healer said firmly. “There’s no earthly point interrogating him.”

“I think I know whether there’s a point or not,” Robards barked.

“He’s very unwell and he won’t make one bit of sense,” the healer said. “ I’m taking him to hospital this minute. Who can help me?”

Robards gave up.

“Weasley, Potter; take Mr Malfoy to St Mungos.  _ No _ , Potter - if I need you, I’ll call for you. You’ll need to guard him. Get a private room. Any information he gives you, send to me immediately, delirious or not.” He threw a glare at the Healer who ignored him. “And send me a Portkey expert. Bones if possible.”

“Yes sir,” said Ron. 

  
  


Xx

 

St Mungos was a blur of bright lights and being moved painfully from place to place, the healer barking instructions at people. A spell began to bring the feeling back into his hands and feet and he wanted to scream with the pain. Another spell healed his lip. Ron was there through it all, wrapping blankets around him, asking questions, reassuringly solid and calm.

“Draco, look at me,” said Ron when he was finally in a bed in a room of his own. “Is there anything else the healers need to know?”

“No.”

“Did they…” Ron took a breath. “Did they touch you?”

“I’m not hurt,” Draco said.

“That isn’t what I asked,” said Ron. He reached out and took Draco’s hand. Draco closed his eyes.

“One of them touched me,” he said. “Was going to do more but he changed his mind. It’s fine, it was nothing much.”

He felt Ron’s hand clench around his. “It isn’t nothing,” Ron said quietly. Draco forced his eyes open again.

“My parents…”

“Didn’t anyone tell you? They’re ok. Stunned but they hadn’t hurt them. It was you they wanted to get at.”

_ They were alive. _ He was alive. Ron was here, and  _ They _ hadn’t...

“They said  _ He _ was waiting for me,” Draco told Ron urgently. “I don’t know who that is, I swear I don’t. They wanted to know about Rowle but I didn’t tell them anything. I don’t know if I  _ know  _ anything, I...”

Ron gave his hand another squeeze. “I’ll tell Robards. Don’t think about it just now. Go to sleep,” he said. “Harry and me are guarding you.”

Draco tried. But the pain of his body warming up stopped him from being able to drop off, as exhausted as he was. He drifted in and out of consciousness for a while, jerking awake every time his muscles cramped with the shock of renewed blood flow. He kept catching snatches of Harry and Ron’s quiet conversation and tried not to listen, until his own name came up.

“You and him. Is it serious then?” Harry was saying.

There was silence for a while.

“I dunno Harry, I can’t get my head round it some days, you know?” Ron said finally. “When you think how we were at school. How  _ he _ was. His fucking awful family and...what he’d call Hermione. It’s fucked up.

Draco squeezed his eyes even more tightly shut. He didn’t know if he could bear what came next.

“But?”

Draco could hear Ron shifting in his seat and could almost imagine him scrubbing his eyes the way he did when a conversation made him uncomfortable.

“I keep waiting for him to do something awful, like call me a blood traitor or start all his racism crap or trying to explain that the death eaters weren’t that bad, or sneering at me for being poor, “ he said at last. “But he doesn’t. He doesn’t try and justify any of it. He’s just. He’s  _ sorry _ about it.”

“Do you believe him?”

“Yeah, I do. I mean, he can still be a dick. He can’t stand you,” Ron said with a laugh.

Harry laughed too. “Mutual,” he said.

“And at first it was just...um, physical,” Ron said rather primly. “He’s quite…”

“Yeah,” said Harry hoarsely. “I’ve experienced his…”

“Oh. Yeah,” said Ron. There was silence again before he carried on.

“But then I actually started looking forward to seeing him, talking to him. I dunno.” Ron stopped again. “I think I like him, Harry.”

“So…” said Harry.

“So. I want to give it a go, see what happens,” said Ron. “But not if you and Hermione aren’t happy about it.”

There was another silence.

“People change,” said Harry after a while. “Look at my dad. Look at Dumbledore. The stuff you think when you’re 16 isn’t always what you’re going to think forever. He’s been...alright since the war.”

“His quidditch team is still shit though. Wimbourne Wasps for god’s sake.”

“I know. I think your brothers will be more horrified by that than him being a Malfoy.”

“And what about Ginny?”

“She thinks his team’s rubbish too,” said Harry.

“Shut up. You know what I mean.”

It was Harry’s turn to be silent.

“We haven’t told your parents yet, so keep it quiet, but we’ve decided to go travelling for a bit,” he said. “Six months or so. Before Ginny starts her contract with the Holyhead Harpies.”

“Oh my god, mum is going to go mental,” said Ron joyfully. “What’s made you think of doing that?”

Harry groaned. “It’s me. I think I need to get away for a bit. I didn’t really take a break after the war. I’m...I need time, with Ginny and no responsibilities. I just feel...a bit low. Worn out.”

“You know you can tell me when you feel like this,” said Ron. “I get it.”

“I know. But...what we did the other week. It’s really been messing with my head, Ron.”

“Seemed like you enjoyed it,” said Ron, an edge creeping into his voice.

“That’s the bloody problem,” said Harry, and sighed.

“We shouldn’t have done it, but Harry, you know how I feel. At least you must know now.”

“I know how you  _ thought _ you felt,” Harry said. “I dunno Ron - don’t you think if we were going to get together we’ve had done it by now? I mean we’ve lived together for years and  the only time we did was because we were pissed and Malfoy wound us both up.”

Ron started laughing. “I’m not actually renowned for getting round to these things quickly you know.”

“True,” said Harry. “Alright. If I said right now, never see Malfoy again. Never see him again, and I’ll dump your sister and we’ll go and tell your parents we’re together, on Sunday, at lunch. What do you think?”

“I don’t think you realise how much mum wants you as a son in law, under any circumstances,” Ron said and Harry laughed.

“Is it what you want?”

“God Harry, if you’d asked me that two months ago…” Ron stopped. Draco held himself as still as he could.

“But no. It’s not. Not any more. Not since Draco.”

“No,” said Harry. There was a lengthy silence.

“Though maybe we should have a quick shag just to make sure,” said Ron.

“Good idea,” said Harry, amused. There’s an armchair over there, we…”

The healer came back into the room. “I’ve just been informed that there’s a spot of bother downstairs,” she said. “I think they’re looking for this patient, and they’re being rather...brusque.”

“Shit,” said Ron. “We need to get him away.”

“Take him to the flat,” said Harry. “I’ll go down.” He rushed out of the room.

Ron put a hand on Draco’s shoulder. “I’m sorry, we have to go,” he said.

Draco gave up the pretence of sleep and sat up.

The healer held up her hand. “Just wait one moment, he hasn’t finished his treatment yet,” she said as though they had all the time in the world. Draco tried to get up, and Ron was at his side in a flash, supporting him.

“Now I don’t wish to know anything about your personal relationship with this chap, Ronald,” said the healer briskly, “So please refrain from telling me. But are you comfortable staying with him? He’s very weak, and the potion might go to his head rather.”

Draco felt Ron’s arm around his waist tighten. “No that’s...that’s ok.”

“What sort of state might your bathroom be in?” the healer enquired next. “Revolting or utterly squalid?”

“No, we have a house elf. Emancipated,” Ron added quickly.

“Well that makes a refreshing change. You junior Aurors usually live in the most frightful holes.”

“Please,” Ron said. “We really must…”

“Here then. Warming potion. And give him a bath.  And get some of Molly’s wonderful soup into him, that’ll probably do much more good.”

Ron nodded, snatching the potion. “Draco, do you think you can manage? Just hold onto me,” he said.

That terrible squeezed feeling again, but not as bad as when he was resisting it. And then they  were home.  _ Not home; Ron’s flat. _

“Right,” Ron said as Draco swayed on his feel, wrapped in hospital blankets. “Give me a sec.”

He went into the bathroom and Draco could hear him talking to the house elf. God, he hoped it wasn’t one of the elves his family had had, he’d probably drown Draco in the bath.

Ron was back a moment later, putting an arm round Draco’s shoulders and giving him the potion to take. Draco shuffled through to the bathroom feeling about a thousand years old. Gently Ron unravelled him from the blankets and helped him into the bath.

“Hold on, I’m coming back. Just want to check the protections on the flat,” Ron said. Draco let his head fall back and his eyes close. The second dose of the potion was blissful. He felt as though he was floating. Half-heartedly he picked up the sponge and tried scrubbing at the dirt on his knees.

Ron came back. “Everything’s fine. No one’s tried to breach anything,” he said. “Here, I’ll do that.”

He took the sponge from Draco’s unprotesting hands and began washing him with it. Hands, knees, his hair, his face. Draco watch Ron’s hands and forearms working through half-closed eyes. Unsurprisingly, he had a ridiculous erection, which Ron was pretending not to notice. He sighed as Ron squeezed wonderfully warm water over his stomach.

“Ron,” he said. “I’m really…” he turned his head to Ron, who was staring at him. “I’m really  _ hungry _ .”

Ron’s face creased into a smile. “Yeah, I’ve got food. Mum’s soup. Come on, I’ll help you out.”

He helped Draco dry himself and gave him a set of enormous pyjamas which made Draco feel and look about five years old. They’d just managed to get Draco comfortable in bed when there was a ‘crack’ from the kitchen and someone calling out “Ronald Weasley, get out here now!”

“Oh god, it’s mum,” Ron said, going pale under his freckles.

“I thought you said you had protections up?” said Draco.

“I’d like to see me try putting protections up against  _ her _ ,” said Ron. He groaned. “Stay here.”

Draco sat back, but couldn’t hear what they were saying. There was a clatter of crockery, and Ron saying something, and then the door opened and Ron was back holding a tray.

“She heard all about what happened. She brought this,” he said.

“Is she going to come in here?” asked Draco, horrified. He had no idea how things worked in the Weasley family. He only used to see his mother in the evenings when she was dressed for dinner. The idea of her popping round with a cauldron of soup was ludicrous.

“No, don’t be daft. Just sit back will you.”

Draco did, and Ron slid the tray across his lap. Suddenly he was ravenous. God the soup tasted amazing. Draco couldn’t help letting out an appreciative, loud groan.

“Draco stop it,” Ron said, half exasperated, half laughing. “This is my mum’s vegetable soup, not some bloody love potion. My mum who is sitting in the kitchen right now, waiting to rip me a new one for not telling her about you.”

He’d have to face his own parents at some point he supposed. God knows what they’d say about all this. About his  _ proclivities _ . He imagined the disgusted look on his mother’s face. He wanted to see them, but...he shrugged off the problem and focussed on the food in front of him.

Hunger satisfied, another need rose up in Draco. “You sure it wasn’t a love potion?” he said, looking up at Ron.

Ron took the tray away and put it on the floor. “What do you mean?” he said.

Draco answered by taking one of Ron’s hands and guiding it down between his legs. He watched Ron’s eyes darken and his mouth fall open a little way.

“We...we can’t,” he said, without much conviction.

“Can’t you just touch me a little?” said Draco in a low voice. “It’s the warming potion. It’s made everything feel quite...intense.”

He leant back against the pillows, flinging an arm above his head. He knew he looked good, with his hair damp from the bath and his cheeks still flushed from the warming potion. He bit his lip, slowly and deliberately, and Ron swallowed.

“Please,” Draco said, shifting a little so the bedcover fell away from him. “I won’t take long. It’ll help me sleep.”

“ _ Fuck _ ,” said Ron. “Just...no noise ok?”

“Maybe you should gag me then,” said Draco as Ron sat on the bed beside him.

“Maybe I should,” Ron murmured, kissing him. He kissed him slowly, slowly, pushing his tongue into Draco’s mouth in a way that made Draco arch against him. As soon as he did, Ron wrapped his hand around Draco’s cock.

Draco let out a strangled moan. He was trying to be quiet but oh  _ God _ the potion had left him so sensitive and Ron’s hand was so good, gripping him just right and moving at the most relentless, perfect rhythm.

“Shh, Draco,” Ron said, amusement in his voice as he pulled down the pyjama bottoms.

“Trying…” Draco managed, but another moan escaped him. Ron stroked his hand up slowly, sweeping his thumb over the head.

“ _ God _ …” Draco gasped.

“Too loud,” Ron murmured in his ear, swinging a leg over and straddling him. He clamped a firm hand across Draco’s mouth, his other hand relentless on Draco’s cock.

Oh he was close already. The feeling of being trapped between Ron’s legs, his hand so firm over his mouth, the urgency and the need to be quiet was...fuck,  _ fuck _ , Ron hadn’t given him permission. He looked up at Ron and could tell Ron knew.

Ron bent down over him. “You’re close, I can feel it,” he said. “You’re going to do what I tell you, aren’t you?”

Draco nodded.  _ Jesus _ .

“Good boy,” said Ron and Draco almost came then and there. This was...Ron had never got into controlling him like this before and Draco was so aroused by it he could barely breath. He knew he would spill in moments.

“I’m going to count to five and you’re going to come,” said Ron and Draco’s eyes widened. “And you’ll keep yourself quiet. Got it?”

Draco blinked and arched against him. Ron picked up a relentless rhythm, hand stroking and twisting in the most excruciating, perfect way.

By the count of three Draco was on the edge; by four he was barely holding on. His eyes pleaded with Ron as he waited for that last permission to let go but it felt as though Ron would never give it. He bucked upwards, grabbing at Ron’s shoulders.  _ He couldn’t hold on... _

“Five,” Ron said at last, taking his hand off Draco’s mouth and simultaneously leaning down and taking his whole cock in his mouth. Draco only just had time to cover his mouth with his own hand before he was coming in hard spurts down Ron’s throat, letting out panting sobs behind his fingers.

Ron drew his mouth away just as Draco began to feel too sensitive. He sat back.

“‘ _ Good boy _ ?’” Draco said breathlessly. But smiled.

“What? I’m older than you,” said Ron, grinning at him.

“By two fucking months,” said Draco.

“Three,” Ron said, and kissed him before sitting back again and sighing. “Better go and face the music. Go to sleep for Merlin’s sake.”

Draco lay back on the pillows and let his eyes drift closed. He could feel the warmth of the fire and after a few moments heard a quiet ‘crack’ and then the small sounds of the house elf sweeping the hearth. His limbs felt so relaxed he doubted he could even sit up. He could hear the noise of a family argument drifting through from the kitchen and smiled to himself a little. Felt like home.

“...Can’t be trusted, you must see…”

“Mum, I  _ am _ an Auror. I’ve actually got training in working out if someone’s…”

“...very handsome but…”

“That’s got nothing…”

“Oh Ron, but he must still associate…”

“...bloody terrified of them! I can’t tell you, but If you knew what they’d done to him, you’d…”

Not quite the calibre of Malfoy family arguments. Nobody had dropped a chandelier on anyone or revealed they were carrying Voldemort’s secret love child. But still. Strangely comforting. He drifted into a light sleep.

Ron came back into the room, quietly closing the door behind him and Draco dragged his eyes open.

“Shit, sorry. Did I wake you?”

“Wasn’t really asleep. I was enjoying the row too much.”

“Heard that did you?”

“I heard her call me handsome,” said Draco and Ron raised an eyebrow at him. “ _ Very _ handsome in fact. I take back everything I ever said about her.”

“So you should, you were a cruel little arsehole,” said Ron mercilessly.

“I...know,” said Draco.

“Oh. Anyway. She’s gone. Bloody hell.”

“Have you been burned off the family tree?”

“Worse. She wants me to bring you with Harry on Sunday for lunch.”

Draco looked at him in horror.

“Don’t worry, there’s no way that’s happening. Harry and Ginny are going to tell everyone they’re going travelling anyway. It’ll be carnage.” Ron sat on the foot of the bed and scrubbed his face with a hand.

“Do you mind if I crash next to you? Didn’t really get any sleep last night,” he said.

“It’s your bed, Weasley.”

“Yeah, but you’re all ill and delicate and stuff,” Ron said crawling up the bed and flopping down on his back. Draco rolled his eyes. Ron grinned up at him. “Anyway, stop calling me Weasley like we’re having an argument outside the Slytherin common room. Call me Ron, ok?”

Draco looked down at his pale freckled face and sleepy blue eyes and just nodded.

Ron half sat up and wriggled out of his clothes and got under the covers. “That’s one bollocking out of the way at least,” he said. “Being hauled into Robards’ office to explain about you tomorrow. Oh you’ve to come too.”

Draco felt a cold trickle of fear. Could Ron be ordered away from him? Probably.

“Stop staring at me like that and come here,” said Ron sleepily. Draco slid over to him and Ron hooked a long arm around him and half-kissed the side of his head.

“Glad you’re not dead,” he said. And instantly fell asleep.

Draco lay awake a little longer. He felt the creep of a dark panic start to rise up in him. What would Robards say? Maybe he’d be sent to prison, or taken somewhere ‘safe’ where he’d disappear. His heart began to thud and he braced himself for the hours of fear that would surely follow.

But something in him said no. He held onto the arm Ron had wrapped around him, concentrating on the warmth and the weight of it and tracing the scars on it, just visible in the firelight. Breathing deeply, he felt the panic recede bit by bit until he was calm again.

He felt a small moment of jubilation that he’d managed to fight the attack off before it was replaced by bone weary exhaustion. Draco closed his eyes and slept at last. 

 

Xx

 

Draco paced the corridor outside Robards’ office, waiting for him to finish with Ron. The office was perfectly sound proofed so he had no idea what was happening. The wait was a torment. He wondered if Ron would even be allowed to speak to him again before he was taken off somewhere, interrogated, or hidden away till Rowle’s trial. He clenched his fists and did another circuit of the corridor.

The door shot open and Ron stuck his head out. “You’ve to come in,” he said.

Draco sat down as quickly as he could, hoping Robards would get to the point without too much delay. 

He did.  


“First of all, I’d like to apologise,” said Robards, smoothing back his dark hair. “We let our watch on you lapse sadly, and you were almost killed because of it.”

“I didn’t even know anyone was watching me,” Draco said.

“It wasn’t Weasley, if that’s what you’re thinking,” said Robards. Draco felt something that had been wound tightly inside him relax a little.

“Secondly, Rowle is dead.” Robards paused a moment to let it sink in. “While St Mungos was under attack, the Death Eaters staged an attempt to free him. Now a number of them are dead - Rowle included -  and some are under arrest. Rowle was obviously incredibly important in some way, so anything you can remember about him will be of great use.”

Draco nodded, biting his lip. He hoped he wouldn’t have to reveal what Rowle had...done to him.

“Thirdly, we would like you to do something for us. For this Department. For the Aurors especially.”

Draco’s heart sank. Here it came; the offer of protection in exchange for something terrifying.

“If you’re going to ask me to spy, I can’t,” Draco burst out. “I...I panic. I’m afraid of everything. It wouldn’t work.”

“Afraid? Yes, let’s see,” said Robards. “You went against Voldemort and most of your family. You stood up in court repeatedly and gave evidence against people who - if I understand correctly how the cult works - had physically and mentally attacked you many times. Who could still hurt you through the Mark on your arm, till you took things into your own hands and removed it.”

Draco wrapped his fingers around his arm, remembering the pain. Ron shot him a ‘why didn’t you tell me?’ look, but how could he have complained to Ron about his Dark Mark scar hurting?

“And you did this despite it putting you in danger with those we hadn’t yet caught. Yet you never asked for protection.”

“That just makes me an idiot,” said Draco.  Robards held up his hand.

“When we found you yesterday you had attempted to attack your captors, you defied us until you knew who we were, you were close to death and yet you gave us crucial information. On top of that, it seems by all accounts you are worryingly good at wandless magic and I don’t really want you wandering around doing that unless you are doing it for us.”

“I can’t spy. Please don’t make me,” Draco said, his heart thudding. “I can stop the wandless magic, I…”

“I don’t want you to spy, I want you to work here,” Robards said abruptly.

“Here,” repeated Draco.

“For the Aurors. Not in the field, at least not yet - you’re too much of a loose canon. But I can think of half a dozen uses for you here at the Ministry just off the top of my head. Would you consider it?”

“I…”

“Think about it overnight.” Robards stood and shuffled his papers together.

“Weasley, you find him somewhere to live. I don’t need to know where that is,” he said pointedly, and Ron went red, “ just clear it with the Misuse of Magic department and they can update his records and send his belongings on there.”

“Yes sir.”

“Take the rest of the week off,” Robards finished. Ron stared at him.

“Well then,” said Robards, opening the door. “Off you go.”

They scrambled out of the room in a dazed silence towards the lift.

“What just happened?” Ron said, his blue eyes lit up with laughter. “What the bloody hell…”

“I...don’t know,” said Draco wonderingly. “I think I’ve got a job. What did he say to you?”

“Read me the riot act about personal relationships with witnesses, and not reporting misuse of wandless magic.”

“So what does that mean?” said Draco, not looking at him.

“Well, you’re not a witness now are you? Rowle’s dead. And he can keep a beady eye on you here from now on. If you take the job. You will take the job, won’t you?”

Draco looked up at him. So they weren’t to be separated. He nodded.

“Oh god, we’re going to have to work together,” Ron said, reality setting in. “You’re going to have to work with  _ Harry.” _

“Well he’ll just have to try and not kill me every five minutes.”

“You’re going to have to try really, really hard not to be a dick and annoy everyone,” Ron said.

“Thanks for the advice,” said Draco.

“You’re welcome. I can tell you when you’re being a dick if you like. We can have a secret hand signal. Like…” Ron curled his hand and mimed wanking, then pointed deliberately at Draco.

“Subtle.”

“I thought so,” said Ron amiably, as the lift doors opened. Two Aurors came out, nodding at Ron.

They entered the empty lift.

“And what’s the secret signal for when I want you to take me somewhere and fuck me senseless?” said Draco in an innocent voice.

Ron spluttered.

“Something like...this?” asked Draco, turning to him, sliding his wand out of his jeans. Using a quick spell, he undid the button on Ron’s jeans beneath his robes.

Ron breathed out hard, his eyes dark.

“ _ Draco _ …”

Draco lifted an eyebrow and undid Ron’s fly.

“Stop it,” Ron said hoarsely. “You...my  _ dad _ works here.”

“Sorry,” Draco said. “Am I being a dick?”

Ron made a movement towards him just as the lift doors opened and a large group of people got in, chattering. Draco and Ron were crushed to the back of the lift, Draco making sure that he was pressing against Ron in just the right way.

“As soon as we’re out of here,” Ron murmured to Draco, lips against his temple, “You’re going to pay for this.” Draco shivered and pressed back against Ron harder, gratified to hear his breathing go ragged.

As soon as they walked out into the entrance hall, Ron took a firm hold of Draco’s wrist. “Let’s go,” he said, and apparated them both before Draco could protest.

Draco’s feet didn’t even touch the floor of Ron’s hallway before Ron had him slammed up against the wall. He just managed to take a breath before Ron was kissing him furiously, hands tight around Draco’s thighs as he hitched him up against him.

“Do you know how close I was to dragging you into a cupboard somewhere,” Ron said against Draco’s mouth, “Or bending you over someone’s desk and fucking you?”

Draco only panted and arched as Ron pushed his hand against Draco’s cock and started stroking it through his jeans.

“I’m going to fuck you here in the hallway,” Ron continued and Draco let out a small moan of anticipation. “And you just better hope Harry doesn’t come home. That’s what you get for being such a pricktease. Take your clothes off.”

Draco couldn’t have given a shit if Harry had arrived home with the entire Auror department. Ron was in front of him with blue eyes almost black with lust, a flush of pink on his freckled skin and an expression so ferociously turned on that he’d have let him fuck him in front of a hundred people rather than wait another second. He stripped himself quickly, Ron helping him drag his jeans off.

He grabbed a handful of Ron’s shirtfront and kissed him again, revelling in the vulnerable feeling of being naked while Ron was fully dressed. Ron kissed him back for a moment before pulling away.

“Hands and knees,” he said.

Draco bit his lip to stop himself moaning with abandon, and got onto the floor. He felt Ron’s wand briefly touch him and then two of Ron’s fingers were inside him, cool with lube.

“Keep still,” Ron said, angling his fingers down, sliding and stretching, and kissing his way down the small of Draco’s back. Draco let out a cry as Ron pressed his fingers down on just the right spot and heard the patter of his pre-come dripping onto the wooden floor.

“ _ Please _ , Ron” he begged, trying desperately to hold himself still and not impale himself on Ron’s long fingers.

“I  _ said _ keep still,” Ron warned, and Draco trembled and obeyed.

Ron took his fingers away and Draco heard the rustle of his clothing. He bent over Draco, biting at his earlobe and neck, sending shivers of sensation down Draco’s back.

“Are you sorry for winding me up?” Ron said, sliding his oiled cock against Draco’s arse, and Draco could hear the grin in his voice as Draco pushed helplessly back against him.

“No,” Draco panted. “Oh  _ God _ …”

“No?” Ron asked, pressing the tip of his cock against Draco. Draco tried to push back against him again, but Ron held him tightly at the hip. Draco groaned with frustration.

“No, I’m  _ not _ .”

“What did you say?” asked Ron, pushing only the very head of his cock inside Draco. He took hold of Draco’s cock in his fist for one moment, stroking it from root to tip, and then agonisingly let it go again.

“Please. Oh God  _ please _ ,” Draco gasped.

“Please what?” Ron said, pushing forward another tiny fraction. Draco thought he might lose his mind.

“I’m  _ sorry _ . Just fuck me for God’s sake, you  _ arsehole _ ,” he said.

“Seeing as you asked so nicely,” Ron said, and pushed all the way inside him in one steady, oiled slide. Draco almost sobbed with how good it felt.

Draco realised Ron wasn’t going to fuck him in the slow, tantalising way he usually did. Not this time. Holding nothing back Ron slammed himself inside him, holding Draco’s hips in an iron grip, the impact juddering through Draco’s entire body. He could do nothing but brace himself against the onslaught, crying out helplessly.

Ron took a handful of Draco’s hair, yanking his head up and lifting him half off the floor. He kissed and bit at Draco’s neck, one hand stroking down his belly to his cock and taking hold of it. Assaulted from all angles Draco pushed himself against Ron’s hand, begging incoherently. Ron pushed Draco down again so that Draco’s face was against the floor and fucked harder. Oh  _ God _ .

Ron’s strokes were even more punishing now and Draco could not hold in his cries. His balls drew up tight as Ron thrust inside him again and again, hard enough to lift his knees off the floor, giving him no purchase, no control at all.

“That’s it,” Ron gasped. “Let me hear you. God you look beautiful.”

Helpless, held down, stretched around Ron, with Ron’s hand on his cock and Ron’s mouth on his neck, his back, the curve of his shoulder, he started to come.

“Fuck, Draco,  _ yes _ ...” he heard Ron say as he spurted over Ron’s fist, moaning and arching back against him. He felt the hot rush of Ron finishing inside him a moment later and then the weight of Ron collapsing against him, soaked in sweat.

They lay there for a moment, panting, before Ron sat up and rolled Draco over, kissing him.

“You came,” he said, a delighted grin spreading across his face.

“Well what did you think I’d…” Draco began, then stopped. “Oh,” he said.   


“You came without asking. Oh my god,” said Ron, punching the air, “I’ve broken the spell! I win!”

“Get a grip,” said Draco, not quite able to keep the smile off his own face.

“I did and it fucking worked,” said Ron. “I am the king of sex and the Death Eaters can kiss my arse.”

“You are completely ridiculous,” said Draco, even as Ron pulled him over on top of him, kissing him everywhere he could reach.

“Let’s go to bed and do that over and over again all day,” Ron said.

“It’s 10am,” Draco said.

“We can stop for lunch.”

Draco started to laugh in earnest then, and Ron stood, dragging Draco to his feet and into his room.

“I mean, It’s not perfect, and my room’s a bit bigger, but Harry’s is alright, and if I’m honest I’m hoping you’ll spend most nights in my bed anyway,” Ron said as though they had been part way through a conversation.

“What are you going on about?”

“Well, you’re moving in, aren’t you?” Ron said.

“I…” Draco was stunned into silence.

“Oh shit, you don’t want to,” Ron said, biting his lip and frowning. “Sorry, I’m an idiot. I just assumed with you not having anywhere to go and Harry moving out...and you seem to like it round here. Don’t worry about it, forget I said anything.”

Draco blinked at him as various bits of realisation fell into place. That maybe Ron had meant what he said to Harry, that it wasn’t just a way to save face because Harry didn’t want  _ him _ . That Ron liked him and he wanted him around. That maybe he could lower his defenses a tiny bit and allow himself to care back.

Maybe.

“Um…” he said at last. “How often does your mum bring food round?”

Ron groaned. “About twice a week and there’s nothing I can do to stop her so don’t even ask.”

“I liked the soup,” Draco said with a smile.

Ron shook his head. “You’re as bad as Harry. Wait, does that mean…?”

“Yeah, why not,” said Draco with a shrug.

“Alright,” said Ron casually, but gave him a look of such affectionate warmth that Draco felt an absurd rush of happiness.

Absurd because there were a million ways this could go wrong. It was too soon, they hadn’t thought about it properly, and half the time they argued still. They’d be working and living together. Draco knew he’d probably annoy people at the Department and they’d hate him and distrust him and there was only so much Ron’s cheerful disposition could take before he realised what everyone else saw when they looked at Draco and started to think they were right, and Harry could come back and realise he’d made a terrible mistake, and…

_ And it might all be ok, too. _

Now there was a thought.

Draco reached up with both hands, tangling fingers in Ron’s bright hair and tugging his mouth down to his. He kissed him gently, eyes closed; letting himself be vulnerable. It was as close as he could bring himself to saying  _ “Yes, I want this. I want to give it a try.” _

He released Ron who let out a small happy sigh. “Come on then,” he said, taking Draco’s hand again. “We’re going to bed and staying there, and if I haven’t made you say ‘Weasley is my king’ at least once before the end of the day I’ll be very disappointed in myself.”

“If you’re really lucky I might even sing it,” said Draco. 


End file.
